Playing by Their Rules
by Hilariter
Summary: AU. Gale's perspective as he looks back on his Hunger Games and afterwards.
1. Chapter 1

**Playing by Their Rules**

_"'I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being.'_

_'Sure there is. Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta.'"_

_Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins  
_

Present

Gale sits in his old room silently. Seated on the floor, he pretends the thick carpet is tall grass half-hiding him from the world. He stares absently at the near wall, manipulated to show the depths of a murky, damp green forest, complete with the occasional squirrel or bird passing through. It was familiar, it was safe. It reminded him of when he'd been happiest, gone now. It reminded him of why he had fought and why he would continue to fight if need be.

It's so close to being over. One last ceremony, and tomorrow he would be leaving the Capitol for his new home. It's taken two long years to reach these final hours. Two long years, and a heavy price. Though he could take no joy in the moment, Gale never once doubted that their victory had been worth it. Except, perhaps, for the price he had been forced to pay. Why had his cost been so much higher, he wonders as he sits in this room for the last time.

* * *

The Reaping

Hazelle had to stand on her toes and Gale had to lean down to receive her hug. She held him tightly but carefully, not wanting to muss his nicely ironed best shirt. She kissed his cheek and pulled away. Turning, she pulled Rory into an equally tight hug. Galen's jaw tightened as he looked at his younger brother, looking smaller and thinner than usual in his reaping shirt.

It was one of their father's, carefully mended and saved. In District 12, nothing was thrown away that could be reused or recycled in some way. This last year, Gale finally filled out his own hand-me-down. After this last year, his shirt would be put away again, saved for when little Vic would turn twelve and would enter the reaping in his turn.

His mother was still holding Rory, her hands cupping his face, telling him to be brave. At thirteen, Rory would have two slips of paper in the reaping ball. Gale and Hazelle had refused to let him take any tesserae, though he'd offered. Gale hadn't realized how much his brother had grown. He made a mental note that, should they get through this day, it was time to teach Rory to hunt. Gale would start work in the mines soon, losing valuable hunting time. The family needed the extra food from the woods, and Katniss always hunted better with a partner to watch her back.

Katniss. Her little sister joined the reaping this year. He looked again at his small family. Vic and Posy were now crowding around his legs. Rory. Prim. Vic. Posy. Despite the daily struggle to keep them alive, to keep them fed and healthy and whole, he was still completely helpless now to keep them safe from the Games. He could only hope that his forty-two slips in the balls tipped the odds in Rory's favor rather than his own. Thinking about it made him want to throw something.

The bell sounded. Gale wrapped an arm around his brother and held him tight for a moment. Hazelle gathered up Vic and Posy, her eyes red but dry. He nodded to her once, then turned to begin the walk to the square, one arm still around Rory's shoulders. What had Rory ever done to deserve this suspenseful torture? He did well in school and helped their mother with her laundry service. Rory had never fought back, never said a word against the Capitol. He didn't even defy them by hunting as Gale did. Yet he could still be sentenced to death by two small scraps of paper. Gale solemnly watched his brother take his place, closed his eyes, and fervently wished for one more year of grace for himself and his loved ones.

Ladies first. He held his breath as silence fell over the square. Hanny Woodlawn. Gale breathed a sigh of relief. Not Katniss. Not Prim. They were safe, thanks to the poor, trembling Seam girl walking up to the platform.

Gale's chest tightened as Effie Trinket said, "And now for the boys." He closed his eyes again and wished. Not Rory. Not him. His last year, forty-two slips between him and safety, between Rory and safety. Not Rory. Not him.

The silence was deafening.

Gale Hawthorne.

His eyes opened slowly? A mistake? He knew better than to question. The other boys parted around him. He saw Rory staring at him in horror, taking a half step forward. Gale shook his head ever so slightly, both to clear it and to signal Rory not to do anything foolish. He straightened her shoulders and walked up to the stage. His siblings were safe. The people he loved were safe. He could handle everything else.

Three minutes to say everything he should have had a lifetime to say. Galen's brothers and sister were crying, Vic and Posy sharing his lap as they had so often done at home by the fire. His wonderful mother was still holding back her tears, being strong for the little ones, being strong for him while she still could. He told them he loved them again and again. He knew Rory and Katniss would keep them all safe and sound now, as sound as they could be, losing their father figure again. He hugged his mother and looked her in the eye. "For Father."

She shook her head. "Just try to come home to us. They need you, not vengeance." She knew him well. He nodded.

Katniss came and walked straight into his arms. After a moment she pulled away. "They won't starve. They won't take tesserae."

"I know."

"You can do this thing, Gale," she said quickly, holding back fear and loss. "You know snares better than anyone, you can shoot."

"Yes, and I know how to kill," Gale said, nodding.

Katniss bit her lip then said, "Gale, you can't go off like you do in the woods. You have to at least try to hide what you think about them, or else..."

"Don't worry, Catnip," he said, forcing a light tone, "I'll be back." He paused, then said, "Katniss, I..." but the door swung open and a Peacekeeper pulled her away before he could finish.

A/N:_ Hear ye, hear ye, let it be known throughout the lands that I own nothing related to The Hunger Games. Sadly, only Hanny and this strange alternate universe is mine. Read and enjoy, and reviews are greatly appreciated. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Present/Capitol**

Another thing they had taken from him. His last moments before the Games, and he couldn't say the words of his heart. In the quiet of his room, so different from the silence of the square on Reaping Day, he thinks she probably wouldn't have understood them even if he had been able to say them. At sixteen, she had been so much older than her years in some ways, and so very young in others. Not that it matters now.

Gale had stayed in this room then too, before the Games had started. Home seems like too pleasant a term for a glorified prison. He scoots back to lean against the side of the bed. Here they had fed him up, dressed him up, and trained him up for slaughter. He still hates the Capitol and all the people in it, his anger undimmed through the passage of time. The games they had made him play, the way they sought to change him, it was inexcusable.

Gale rests his head back against the covers and closes his eyes. Unbidden, faces start to appear. Her face, as always, then unexpectedly, another female face with wide grey eyes, and one with green. This place was getting to him, nightmares brought back into sharp clarity. He was haunted, though he tells himself he feels no guilt, need not feel guilt or regret. Gale had always been good at lying to others, except his mother and Katniss, who knew him too well for that. His own mind though, took some more convincing.

* * *

**The Preparation**

They just want a good show. "Haymitch, what makes a show popular in the Capitol?"

Haymitch belched and took a swig from his flask. "Death, destruction, and despair, same as anywhere." Seeing Gale's glare, he rolled his eyes and continued, "The Games are the most popular show in the Capitol, go figure. With fashion and gossip shows being a close second." Five minutes after they had been introduced, Gale had slammed Haymitch into the wall of the train. Hanny had looked on wide-eyed and Effie had shrieked. It didn't matter so long as Haymitch agreed to help him.

Following his logic, Gale said, "The Games. The bloodier, the better. So violence and death, those should be easy enough to find in the arena. What else?"

Haymitch considered. "Betrayal," he said, "something unique, a small touch of rebellion."

"And romance," Hanny said quietly from a corner. Haymitch and Gale looked at her in surprise, Gale as if a chicken had quacked. "The best stories always have a little romance to them."

Haymitch nodded thoughtfully, "Indeed. And a romantic angle would be fairly new to the Games."

"Only fairly new?" Gale asked, going back to ignoring Hanny.

"There's usually some flirtation between the tributes in the career pack," Haymitch explained. "But it usually comes to nothing, and is definitely absent by the final eight."

"A heartbreaker, then," Hanny said quietly.

Gale nodded at Haymitch. "It might be a good place to start."

"Couldn't hurt you, anyway," Haymitch agreed. He nodded brusquely at Hanny, grabbed a new bottle of liquor, and staggered out of the car.

Gale closed his eyes, deep in thought. He had dismissed Hanny as one of the many girls in school who looked at him sidelong and giggled, flipping their hair to catch his attention. Amusing as they had been in the past, he had no time for such silliness now and besides, Hanny was an opponent. At best Gale could hope he wouldn't have to be the one to kill her in the arena. It didn't help that she looked so like Katniss, with her Seam-grey eyes... He shook his head and focused. There could only be one winner, and he meant to make a strong attempt at it. In doing so, Gale meant to give them the best show they'd ever seen. It might be the only way he would live through it.

* * *

As soon as training began, Gale realized with disgust that he was perfect Career material. Besides a few quiet hours spent with the instructors at the snares and edible plants stations, he spent most of his time at combat stations. Per Haymitch's instructions, he avoided archery and throwing knives, especially after he saw the girl from District 2 working with them. By the time he completed a course in spear-throwing, he had caught the attention of the Careers from District 1. Swordplay took a bit more work. Gale quickly learned that a sword was not just a longer knife. He could feel the eyes of District 2 on his back as he missed a parry and was clipped in the shoulder.

However, when Gale blazed through a wrestling station, he could feel the stares of both Career girls as he stood, bare chest heaving, and helped his opponent up. He'd never take down one of the Mellark boys, especially Peeta, but he was strong and agile, more than a match physically for the other tributes. He knew he'd won over the tributes from 2 when he heard the girl comment quietly, "He's better than you think, Cato. I don't care what you think of his weapon skills, he's got guts."

The Careers invited him to eat lunch with them that day, and a merry time they made of it. Gale could feel the tension in their smiles, hidden beneath a layer of friendly competitiveness. These boys and girls, Glimmer, Marvel, Clove, Cato, would not hesitate to kill him as soon as he outlived his usefulness. Still, Gale turned on the charm to hide his hatred for these people, these pawns of the Capitol who willingly played their sick games and enjoyed the sport.

As training progressed, Gale realized that Clove and Cato from 2 already had some strange bond between them, carefully set aside and ignored as they practiced the skills of battle. Gale filed it away in his memory and focused his own attentions on Glimmer, the girl from 1.

He knew she was as used to boys staring after her as he was to the girls to the girls of District 12 giggling about him. Unlike him, Glimmer thrived in the attention. She was not immune to his winning smile, but she thought herself equal to it.

"Mind if I join you?"

Glimmer cocked her head coyly and handed him a fan. He nearly dropped it. It was much heavier than it looked. She laughed at him. "Nice move, handsome. You're welcome to join, but don't expect to do well if you can't even hold onto the weapon!"

He looked skeptically at the blue silk fan in his hand. "You could take me out with this thing? Really?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him with a sly smile. "Watch and learn, 12."

Glimmer took the fan back from him and walked out into the sparring ring. A trainer in light pads stepped in to meet her, armed with a long knife. As soon as he took his stance, Glimmer attacked. The fan flew open as her arm arced towards the man, who took a step back in surprise and defended. The fan flashed by his padded arm and as Glimmer drew away, Gale could see the pad had been slit open, layers of foam showing through. The fight was almost a dance on Glimmer's side, the fan flicking open and closed as she moved fluidly around the ring. Closed, the fan became a short club, and after a few minutes Glimmer left her opponent's arm hanging limp from the elbow after rapping it sharply. This made him desperate and he lunged straight at her with the knife. She swiftly flipped the fan open and with great skill caught the blade between the spokes of the fan, closing it quickly to trap the knife. Lightning fast she grabbed the outer edge of the fan in her other hand and twisted it, forcing it out of the man's hand. Her arm swung towards the floor and the fan flicked open again, dropping the knife to the ground with a clatter that echoed as Glimmer finished the motion with the open edge at her opponent' neck. He raised his hands and nodded to her as she backed away and closed the fan. Glimmer ignored him and turned back to Gale with a smile, flipping the fan back open to delicately fan her face and hide behind it, her eyes wicked and smiling over the blue silk.

"That was amazing," Gale said easily as she walked over to him. He made a mental note that this girl, no matter how shallow or vain, was a threat.

"Better than anything I've seen anyone from District 12 do," she agreed, her voice muffled from behind the fan as her eyes dropped away behind it.

Gritting his teeth, he smiled and put his arm around her. Placing his face close to hers, he slowly pulled the fan down to expose her eyes and nose. "Better and prettier than anything I've seen yet in the Capitol."

She smiled and blushed slightly. Glimmer playfully brought the fan back up to cover her face in a show of maidenly modesty and embarrassment. "Oh sir,"she said in a high-pitched voice, "you are too kind."

He laughed and took the fan away from her. She squealed in mock outrage and tried to take it back, but he held it out of her reach and examined it. "Hard wood for the spokes, and silk for the binding. Ah," he said, looking at the edges carefully and testing then on a fingernail. "Metal strips on both edges, for weight and that simple little trick of catching the knife," he said, looking down at her and winking at her real indignation before going back at the fan, "and sharpened on the outer edge for cutting." He folded it back up and handed it back to Glimmer with a slight bow. "I am suitably impressed, o gorgeous one."

"As you should be," she replied with a smug smile. She tucked his arm through his and tossed the fan carelessly onto the weapons table. "It's a useful discipline for control and agility, but it's useless in the Games, where even that scrawny little brat from 4 could get a strike in if he got hold of a spear. Not that he would, he'll be dead long before the spears come into play. Right, Marvel?" she asked the boy coming up next to them.

He laughed callously. "Oh yes, those spears are mine and I'll kill anyone who comes between me and them. Come on, let's go boot that idiot from 9 off the station and I'll show you the way a spear is supposed to be handled."

Gale plastered a smile on his face while inwardly he seethed, took Glimmer's hand in his, and followed.

He noticed Hanny only once as they went about their separate training. She was practicing with a knife and as Gale talked with Glimmer he caught the delighted look on her face as she managed to break through her opponent's defense and got her knife firmly at his chest. He was forcibly reminded of Katniss and of their woods. She had looked like that when they had brought down the deer years ago.

He jerked his mind back to the present. If he wanted to get back to her, if he wanted to see his family again, he needed to focus on surviving now.

* * *

Being reminded made it all the harder during the interviews as Gale stared out at the brightly-colored crowd. These people, with their selfish, unreasonable, outrageous desires and wastefulness had cost them fathers and friends, forced them to live in poverty, and cheered for their deaths. During the preceding interviews, Gale forced himself not to glare at the people he decided were not people, but monsters, all of them.

Knowing full well his own appeal in an impeccably tailored black suit with red tie, a reminder of the tribute procession, Gale knew he could charm the audience as easily as he had charmed Glimmer.

Caesar Flickerman started off the interview with a comment about his fiery appearance during the procession. "Were you at all nervous about such a dangerous move?"

Gale smiled, warm and winning, "Oh yes, you know we're familiar with fires back at home, but I've never wanted to be that close to one!"

The audience laughed, and Caesar continued, "I wonder what else you picked up back in District 12: a 9 right out of the gate! Tell me, what are they feeding you all these days?"

Gale laughed. "Nothing new and different, really, but I'm a fast learner and adaptable."

Caesar nodded, "A healthy streak of natural raw talent, that's good! But do you think it will be enough to see you through these Games?"

"I think so, Caesar," Gale said easily, "though the extra practice this week hasn't hurt."

"I'd imagine not," Caesar said as the audience applauded. "Now, we've heard a few rumors, Gale, that maybe you could clear up for us." Gale nodded. "Handsome lad like you, surely there's some young lady that's caught your eye? Back at home perhaps?"

Gale laughed. "Not officially back at home, no. Good thing too, as there might be a beautiful young lady here that's caught my attention." He quickly raised his eyebrows at the audience with a knowing smile before turning in his seat to grin at Glimmer and give her a wink. She blushed as the audience laughed and the cameras focused on her for a moment.

"Oh ho, a little romance brewing in the training area, eh?" Caesar teased. "And from District 1 as well; you have good taste, my friend."

Gale nodded, "I agree, she's quite a catch."

The timer sounded. "Well, best of luck to you, Gale, both in love and in the arena," Caesar said warmly. "Gale Hawthorne, from District 12!"

Gale grinned and waved, hoping that Katniss would forgive him.

A/N:_Hooray, second chapter! Many many thanks to warrior4 for his beta-ing skills and long conversations on characters and story plot holes. Reviews are much appreciated. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Present**

Gale remembers now that Hanny had looked rather pretty that night, dressed in a pale yellow dress that shimmered softly under the stage lights. He had never thanked her. He realizes the selfishness inherent in his strategy. Gale shakes his head to throw off these thoughts. They both couldn't have won. He had his family to consider.

He didn't even know how she had died.

He shakes his head again and stares hard at the woods across from him. A deer is wandering through the trees, surefooted and quiet. It is so lifelike Gale freezes and watches it pass by, only his eyes moving to follow its path. His hands almost reach for his absent bow. When he can no longer see the prey, Gale relaxes again. Even after all that happened, the hunting instincts are strong.

Those instincts, along with hard-earned knowledge, had kept his family going, a saving grace. He laughed softly, grimly, in the quiet of his room. The ability to hunt animals had translated so easily to the ability to hunt other human beings. How easily his saving grace had turned into destructive power, how easily strengths turned into flaws.

He had counted on those skills. Gale had planned and schemed, won favor by his handsome face and strong figure. He had begun to believe he actually had a chance of winning. He believed he could go home.

Gale abruptly reaches down and turns off the forest scene, reverting it back to a clear window showing the Capitol, still glowing with light, under a morning sky. His breathing comes fast and anxious. The forest looks like the home he had known, but it looks like the arena too.

**The Games Begin**

With one deep knell, the Games began. Gale dashed for the bright gold Cornucopia. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cato run straight at another tribute for an attack. Gale grabbed the first weapon he saw, a small utility hatchet. Probably many of the serious weapons would be deep in the horn, out of reach for now. His gaze darted about, quickly taking in the surroundings. About half the tributes were fighting, having seized what they could and either heading for the woods or standing their ground. Gale caught Marvel's look of concentration as he sparred with a smaller tribute.

He spun around at a sound and caught a tribute's knife edge with the hatchet. Without thinking, Gale disengaged and attacked again, swinging the hatchet in a wide arc. The dark-haired boy tried to block the blow, but his parry was too slow. The blade of the hatchet sunk deep into his arm, causing him to scream and drop the knife. The hatchet had dug into bone. Gale pulled at it roughly but it didn't shake loose. Releasing the handle and dropping to the ground, he dodged the now desperate boy's frantic punch and scooped up the knife. Driving upward, he struck into the boy's chest, sliding off a rib to push deep into the cavity. The boy fell to the ground as Gale pulled out the knife. Seeing the blood spread across his shirt, Gale knew it was over.

He swung around to face the Cornucopia again. The last few fights were ending. He watched a girl tribute break away from a hiding place among the supplies. She grabbed up a backpack and food as she ran. He was almost about to let her go when the tribute scooped up a silver bow and quiver of arrows. Gale's eyes narrowed.

He raced to intercept her path, brandishing his knife. Seeing him, she dropped the food. He could see the indecision on her face. Turn and face him or abandon the fight to protect the few supplies she'd already won. Still moving, Gale saw her shift and kicked in his speed. She had decided to run, her motions clumsy. The tribute had just reached the edge of the woods when he reached her.

Abandoning the knife he still held, Gale grabbed at the quiver slung over her shoulder and pulled it back sharply. The strap caused her to turn suddenly, unexpectedly. She lost her balance and fell, the strap slipping off as her arm flew up with the momentum. The tribute dropped the bow to catch herself from hitting the ground face first. Gale dove for the bow, catching the girl in the ribs with his shoulder. She rolled away and scrambled to her feet as he got the bow in hand. She made it a few steps before he had nocked an arrow to the string. The arrow flew faster than thought.

A haze fell from Gale's eyes as he watched her fall. The adrenaline still coursed as he caught his breath from the sprint, lowering the bow slowly. He heard Glimmer calling his name from the horn. He walked slowly to the girl he had killed. His shot had gone through the place where her neck met her shoulder. She was still breathing, but Gale knew death. The dark red pool was spreading wide, quickly. He knelt next to her and retrieved his arrow carefully. His gaze was caught by a cluster of purple columbine flowers nearby. Gale scanned the forest floor and found a clump of wild fennel. _Rosemary for remembrance, pansies for thoughts..._ Gale realized he could no longer hear the girl's breathing, and slowly closed his eyes. Without considering his move, he stretched out his hand and picked a few blossoms of the flower. He placed them in the girl's hands and gently closed her eyes. He stood and walked away without looking back.

As he walked towards the Cornucopia, he saw the rest of the Careers picking through the spoils. Glimmer left off and jogged over to him, a smile wide across her face. "Gale! Wasn't that exciting? An easy one, this first day. Like shooting fish in a barrel, don't you think?"

"Oh, sure," Gale said vaguely. He fought to pull his mind back to the business at hand. "Er, how many did you kill?" he asked, knowing that talking about herself would distract Glimmer and give him time to regroup.

"At least three or four," she said proudly. "No challenge at all, of course. I've seen practice dummies put up more of a fight than some of those weaklings. Honestly, I don't know why some of them even bothered. This boy made it to a spear just after I got hold of a knife and actually turned to attack me! Arrogant little whelp, I soon put him out of his misery."

The others were riding high on the thrill of real battle, where living foes could be really killed, blood spilled, and breath stopped. Letting Glimmer go on ahead, he stopped by the body of the boy he had killed. He knelt to close the boy's eyes and placed a few stalks of fennel in his hands. Clove was staring at Gale as he rejoined their hike towards the lake, putting distance between themselves and the corpses, ready for removal. The cannon began to boom. He tried not to wince, knowing that two were of his doing. He met Clove's gaze frankly.  
She cocked her head at the boy. "What was that?"

He shrugged. "A memory from home."

"Rites for the dead?"

"Something like that."

She looked at him hard. "Why fennel?"

Gale sighed, and quoted:

"_Rosemary for remembrance, pansies for thoughts. _

_Fennel for heartache, now that you are naught. _

_Columbine for beauty of love we bear you,_

_Rue, herb of grace, to make all things new._

_Daisy for sunshine and a bright honest day,_

_To keep us from sorrow, violets will stay."_

Clove laughed. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

"It's an old mourning rhyme from District 12," Gale said, suddenly tired. "No one pays much attention to it anymore, but often at burials there are sprigs or blossoms of each. Our cemetery is covered in violets."

"So…for you leaving these plants with the bodies is a sign of respect?" Clove said, clearly bemused. "Or a sign of regret?" she asked suspiciously, accusing him of weakness.

"Of acknowledgement," Gale said, ending the conversation as they neared the others. He didn't care what the others thought of him so long as the Capitol remembered how he won the Games. So long as it brought him back to District 12.

Cato cheerfully called, "Let's go hunting, mates!" and settled his sword more easily on his hip. Marvel flipped his spear up into a fighting position, and Glimmer put another over her shoulders, standing in a seductive pose for Gale's benefit. He gave her a small smile as Clove shrugged and rested her hands on two knives at her belt. "Can you use that thing?" Cato asked, nodding at the silver bow slung over Gale's shoulder.

Gale shrugged noncommittally, shoving a knife into his belt and picking up a spear. "Never know," he said.

Cato waved this off and led the group towards the trees.

A/N: _Sorry I was gone so long. School is complicated. Anyway, I do not own __Hunger Games__, Gale, the Careers, etc. It all belongs to Suzanne Collins, long may she write. All thanks to warrior4 for his timely beta skills. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Present**

Gales tips his head up to look at the ceiling, avoiding the view of the Capitol. He regrets nothing but sadly remembers the victims of his Games. His hands clench into fists. The Capitol, filled with barbarians in painted skin and freakish design, this was their doing. The blood of the children he had killed was on their hands, he knows. The white of Peacekeeper uniforms, stained red in repayment of those lost in the atrocities they had enforced.

Gale closes his eyes. The foolish girl, caught with a fire that first night, had received pansies. The small girl from 11, caught in a Gamemaker fire, had been given violets. The red-haired girl from 4, found by Marvel stealing from their stores, had been given daisies. None were his kills. But he acknowledged them all the same, accepting their fate in a game beyond their control.

He sighs and looks towards the door, anywhere but at the view through his window. He considers turning on another scene, something apathetic and unemotional. Gale flips through the electric scenery. Desert, beach, forest, prairie, mountains, reefs. The glass returns to the Capitol.

Glimmer.

He flicks through the options again, randomly landing on mountains.

Hanny.

He angrily runs his thumb across the remote, sending the glass into a flurry of moving images. Forest again.

Katniss.

Gale scrambles to hit the power button and throws the remote across the room, striking the panel. The glass cracks in a small spiders-web of radiating lines, and the window becomes opaque.

**The Games Lost**

"Gale," Glimmer whispered, turning over in her sleeping bag. Lying next to her in his own heat-reflecting bag, he casually yawned and turned over to look at her. Marvel was tending the fire, on watch that night. Cato and Clove were on the other side of the fire, sleeping side by side, but a respectful distance between them. She continued, "I think it might be time."

Her face was hidden by shadows. Gale reached out and tucked a strand of bright blonde hair behind her ear, away from her face. "Time for what?" he asked, wishing she had dark hair, with blonde highlights bleached by sun.

"To leave, of course. We can't stick around with these morons for ever if we expect to win."

"True," he said half-heartedly.

She scowled at him. "Gale!" she chided, as if lecturing a slow schoolboy. "With our teamwork, we can wipe these wimps out of the Games. Then the task of cleaning up the rest of the tributes will be easy."

_And then kill off each other_, Gale thought wryly. "That's good thinking, beautiful," he said, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

Glimmer smiled and snuggled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Remember the first time you kissed me?"

Gale rolled his eyes in the darkness, knowing what she wanted to hear. He began softly anyway. "Second or third day. We'd gotten back from hunting, after finding the little girl caught in the fire. We needed more water, and you volunteered to go down to the lake to get some. Helpful thing, you," he said lightly, ducking his neck to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "I watched you walk away, full of confidence and power, beautiful even in combat gear. I had to follow you. Just drawn, I guess, unable to resist." He closed his eyes, imagining someone with real charisma, who could turn heads from across the Meadow without trying. Gale continued, "You were standing by the edge of the lake, like some heroine out of storybooks or legend. You half-turned to greet me, that gorgeous smile spreading slowly across your face."

Next to him, Glimmer smiled. The smugness was practically radiating off of her.

"I kept walking towards you, powerless against your radiance. The sun was setting behind you, casting a soft, shining halo around you. At the edge of the water, I took your hand and we were still in the sunset. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. Glimmer," he drew a deep breath. Even with practice, this was hard. "Glimmer, you were so lovely, so entrancing. I had to gather you up into my arms; I had to be close to you. I looked deep into your starry eyes, green as emeralds, deep pools of eternity, such that a man could lose himself in them. And we kissed," he finished, settling another kiss into her hair.

Glimmer sighed peacefully and turned over, nestling her back against him, the sleeping bags still between them. Gale heard her breathing become regular, repetitive. He edged himself away from her, rolling onto his back with his hands under his head. The glow of the fire and the Gamemaker force field above couldn't restrain the brightness of the stars. He picked out constellations. Scorpion, dragon, sisters, hunter low in the sky. It was getting easier to romance this vain girl next to him. District 1 had no stories but those of the Games. In District 12, one of the few entertainments was storytelling and songs. Realizing the Glimmer knew none of the stories, the imagery of romance idealized in words, it was easy to reach back to the tales Posy loved to hear for inspiration. A massive dose of flattery and the image of Katniss completed the method.

It wasn't that he hadn't kissed other girls before. However, in the last year or so he had watched Katniss grow up and develop into an extraordinary young woman. Gale had refrained from saying anything, not willing to risk their friendship and partnership. He had pinned his hopes on this last year. He would have been out of risk, and in two more years she would have been safe too. Without the fear of the Games, he would have been willing to offer something more than friendship. But no longer.

He turned over again, his back to Glimmer, and stared into the darkness around their camp. Glimmer was right. It was time to go. He needed a plan.

The next morning, the other Careers gathered up supplies for a day scouring the woods for new victims. Gale leaned against the side of the Cornucopia. "Thought I saw someone sneaking around the edge of the woods last night."

"That right?" said Marvel sarcastically, not really listening.

"Yes," Gale said firmly.

Marvel ignored him, but Cato looked at him closely. "You think they're scouting our camp?"

"Or preparing to raid us," Gale said carefully. "We're down to the last few tributes. The Gamemakers will start pulling tricks if there isn't blood soon. The better prepared any of us are, the better our chances of survival."

"And some of the other tributes might think it worth the risk to steal supplies from us," Clove said, nodding slowly.

Gale nodded. "Whoever I saw last night might still be around, waiting for us to leave."

Marvel snorted. "Whatever. I think you're just a lazy, conscientious ass who wants out of the fighting today. All the death getting to be too much for you? I've seen you with the bodies, treating them like they were something precious. Hah!" He spat on the ground. "I think you're getting soft, a pathetic weakling that can't handle a little action."

Gale stepped forward in anger, reaching for an arrow. Marvel planted his feet, his hand tightening around his spear. Cato stepped between them as Glimmer moved to Gale's shoulder. "Marvel, cool it!" he said. "If he wants to stay and guard the camp, let him. We can hunt without him today, and if there is someone waiting to raid the food he'll be useful here." Cato took a step closer to Marvel and said in a low voice, "We can deal with him tonight." Gale pretended not to hear this as he watched Clove slowly remove her hand from the nearest knife handle.

"This is perfect," Glimmer whispered to him. He started, having forgotten she was there. "Pack us up the best of the supplies, and we'll sneak off tonight." He nodded slightly, still watching Clove. Glimmer placed a quick kiss on his cheek, then shouldered her own spear and said, too brightly, "You boys can stand around here if you like, strutting about and being all macho. We girls are going to go add some kills to our lists. Never send a man to do a woman's job, right, Clove?"

Clove rolled her eyes but followed her. "Sure thing. It's been ages since we've had a challenge. Maybe without you noisy oafs we might be able to catch someone."

Cato and Marvel shouted in indignation at the slights against them. Gale watched them leave with narrowed eyes. Half an hour later, he packed a backpack. He went to the forest edge and climbed a tall oak with wide branches. Looking at the view, he considered just staying up here, picking off the Careers with arrows as they returned. Clove first, with those deadly knives, then Marvel with the long-reaching spear. Cato would be no trouble from a distance, and Glimmer… No, it was better to just go along with the plan. He grinned ruefully. He wouldn't want to disappoint the audience. He retrieved the small metal pot from an abandoned woodpecker nest.

Back at the camp, he proceeded to contaminate the food supply with his dark purple concoction. Nightlock berries, Katniss had carefully hammered into his head, were dangerous in any form. Even juice, spilled and dried up, was untrustworthy. The berries went into the stew the group had been cooking and into bags of grain and beans. He mixed dried nightlock into the bags of dried fruits the others favored. Juice went into all of the stored water except his own, and he washed the pot and his hands in the lake.

The other Careers would either be hungry, lucky, or dead, sorting through the compromised food. Especially coming back to a place they thought safe, unbreachable. The false sense of security should claim at least one casualty as the trap was discovered. It was a toss of the dice on his part as to who it would be.

Gale left the campsite looking untouched except for a few stems of rue, left on a box by the fire. His stained hands gripped the silver bow tightly as he walked, on the alert for prey of either kind. Some time later, the cannon fired overhead. Gale did not stop nor look back.

A/N:_ Once again, I own nothing, it is sole property of Suzanne Collins, the wonderful and amazing. Reviews are love, and I adore constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Games Found**

He camped by the river that evening. He risked a small fire to roast the birds he had caught. Over the crackle of the fire, he heard a tiny scuffle. Suddenly alert, he silently, smoothly put an arrow to his bowstring. Gale casually scanned the area. He spotted the figure half-hidden in the foliage near the trunk of an oak. He quickly brought the bow up and fired. There was a solid thunk, a yelp, and a rustle of leaves and branches as the person fell to the ground. Gale bounded over, readying another arrow. Sighting down the shaft in the half-light from the fading sun, he drew up in recognition.

Hanny was flat on her back, gasping for air. She looked up at him fearfully, expectantly. Gale made a fast decision, sighed, and lowered his bow. Pulling it over his shoulder, he reached down to help her up. "You know, one of these days I am going to murder you for surprising me so often," he said crossly.

"Surprising you how?" Hanny asked, distracted, taking his hand and letting herself be pulled to her feet as the anthem began to play in the sky.

"Every time, out of the corner of my eye, you look like…" Gale stopped.

Hanny looked up at him thoughtfully. "Posy?" she offered.

Gale glanced at her sharply. He shook his head. "Similar, but no."

"Ah," said Hanny, nodding. "Is that farce over then?" A crescendo in the anthem of the Capitol drew their attention and both looked at the sky. Gale felt not a thing as a female face with wide green eyes and bright blonde hair stared arrogantly down at them. She had placed her trust in the wrong person and paid for it. Hanny said quietly as the image faded, "I guess so."

He said quietly, "My kill."

"So much for romance," she replied.

"And now for betrayal," Gale said, remembering their conversation on the train. Hanny took a hasty few steps back, preparing to run. Gale said quickly, "No, not you. I betrayed the Career pack. Poisoned their food."

She paused, still staying out of reach. "All of it?"

"Enough," Gale replied.

Hanny huffed a wry laugh. "Good to know."

"Yep," Gale agreed. "What have you been eating?"

"Berries, acorns, wild onions. The pack I grabbed had some rations."

Gale said, "Right. Well, come and have some meat." He gestured back towards his dying fire.

She hesitated, and shook her head. "Thanks, but no."

He stared at her, bewildered. "I'm sorry?"

She said, "I'd rather not be in any alliance with you. For one it would look terrible when I had to kill you in the end," Gale laughed, as she had meant him to, "and besides, you just proved you're not a safe alliance anyway." Gale stopped laughing. Hanny smiled sheepishly. "Besides the obvious, we neither of us could go home if an alliance ended badly."

Gale said thoughtfully, "Cato and Clove don't seem to have that problem."

Hanny rolled her eyes at the change in topic. "They have a fighters' bond, I figure."

"A what?"

She sighed and walked back to sit beside his fire. "They understand death, Gale. They've accepted it and possibly even chosen a chance at death, given that they both volunteered for this hideous parody of a game." Gale nodded, remembering the Reaping in District 2. "Cato and Clove know they're opponents. They both want to win. But they also know that if one has to die at the other's hand, it will be a fair, challenging fight, and a good death. It will be a good death to their minds," she elaborated. "They know they will be remembered with honor as a worthy foe and a good friend in their way."

Gale shook his head. "I don't understand Careers."

"Nor I."

"Huh," Gale said, musing. "Sure you won't eat with me?"

She shook her head. "No thanks."

He laughed, picked up a leg, and pushed it into her hands. "No strings," he promised. Hanny raised an eyebrow at him, smiled, and dug in. Gale leaned against a tree and closed his eyes. Hanny had given him an idea. Again. Eyes still shut he said, "Better climb another tree to sleep in tonight. I killed one of theirs, you know, they'll be out with night vision glasses."

She nodded, wiping the grease from her hands and face. Hanny shouldered her small backpack. "You'd better move away from the fire as well," she said.

"Yeah," Gale said, unconcerned.

"Gale." He opened his eyes. "I know what you have at stake. I know those you love." She broke into a half smile. "You don't deserve her, you know."

Gale half-smiled back. "Oh, I know."

"I just want you to remember: we all have things we're fighting for." She turned to leave. "Good luck."

He closed his eyes again and listened to her walk away. "Hanny," he said, waiting for the pause in footsteps. "If it comes to pass, though I hope not, I promise you a good death."

"Hmm," Hanny said. "But not necessarily that you'll remember me." Her voice was matter-of-fact, nothing more. "Good-bye, Gale."

"Good-bye, Hanny."

The night was uneventful. He worked hard the next day, accomplishing much. Two cannons fired. Gale did not look up from his work. The following night as the projection lit up the sky, he watched with a stone face. The boy from District 11. He closed his eyes, but the light continued. Gale opened his eyes just in time to see Hanny's picture fading from the sky, her small wry smile merging into the stars. At his small fire that night, he burned stems of rosemary, one after another.

A/N: _Sorry about the long break, for all those still reading. This is mostly a continuation of Ch. 4 which is why there isn't a separate 'Present' section, but I felt it would have gone on too long and I just like the separation. I think Hanny deserves better than being lumped in with Glimmer. Anyway, reviews are most heartily desired and welcome!_

_Also, thanks as always to warrior4 for his beta skills, and additional thanks to aFigureOfSpeech, whose work "they go fiercely and with joy" was an insight and inspiration for the relationship between Cato and Clove. Cheers, all!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Present**

Gale rests his head in his hands. Neither of them had mattered, he hadn't cared about either of them worth a damn. Why did they come back to haunt him this night?

He abruptly stands and goes to the dresser by the bed. He pulls out the stack of photographs. His mother, strong and work-worn. His brothers and sisters. Rory. Vic. Posy. The Everdeens: Mrs. Everdeen, Prim with her cat, and Katniss. All his family. His eyes blaze again as he thinks of what he might have lost. These are the people that matter; these were the people he had fought to return to. The others were only bad luck, ill fate, and evil circumstances.

He shakes them all from his mind, all the tributes and soldiers and civilians. He had beaten their Games entirely. The price had been paid. There was nothing he can do to change any of it now. He wouldn't, even if he could.

**The Games End**

They were down to the last four. Cato, Clove, Marvel, and Gale. The irony of it, Gale thought, that the final contestants were all Careers yet again. He had a plan for Cato and Clove. They were his biggest threats, but also had great weakness. Marvel could wait.

The day after Hanny died, he worked diligently setting his trap. The day before he had spent scouting the situation. Marvel had fled the pack, now that it was just him and District 2. Cato and Clove were still near the Cornucopia, though decidedly thinner, he saw with satisfaction. They would be in a hurry to end it before one of them died of starvation. That was good. Desperation would make them less wary of a snare.

He worked with his knife, preparing the surroundings. He heard a rustle and the telltale rush of air. Gale dove to the side, cursing. The spear missed, but just barely. Gale scrambled in the leaves on the ground, but his bow was out of reach. He scrambled up, looking for Marvel. Too slow. The next spear clipped his arm, tearing through skin and muscle. He yelped and grabbed at his arm to stop the bleeding. He saw the other boy come striding towards him, hefting the last of his spears.

"Come on, 12," Marvel said mockingly. "I've seen you fight. Surely between the two of us we can give the Capitol a fight worth watching. Of course," he added mock-sadly, "it won't be a very long one."

Gale grabbed up his knife and ignored the pain in his arm. "I don't know, 1," he said, nodding at his injured arm, "If that's the best you can do then you're a bit out of practice."

Marvel bared his teeth in anger. "Enough to kill the likes of you."

Circling, Gale grinned. "Only you've never fought the likes of me. Too bad you've only ever beaten dummies and helpless children."

The other tribute roared and charged at him. Gale easily sidestepped the spear point and brought up his knife to catch Marvel in the ribs. He gasped and staggered away, holding his arm tight to his side to stop the bleeding. Gale looked down quickly at his own injury, noting that it wasn't bleeding so heavily any more. Looking back up, he saw Marvel coming in more cautiously now, probing with his spear, making use of the length of the haft. Gale swept the point away with his knife, and again. Marvel suddenly jabbed down and caught Gale across the thigh. Gale cursed. He wanted distance, time to throw the knife. He glanced around for his bow, a fatal mistake. The shining edge came up and scored his face, gouging a line from Gale's jawbone up to his forehead, sliding along his cheekbone, and missing the eye by a centimeter. Marvel laughed. "Not so pretty anymore, are you?"

Gale blinked away the blood that came flooding out of the cut, ignoring the jibe. He blocked the next two thrusts, but Gale knew he needed to end this soon. Head wounds bled a lot, and his arm and leg were still exposed as well. He couldn't run to make distance; Marvel was deadly in such short range. Maybe if he could get Marvel overconfident. One last trick to try.

He slowed the pace of his movements further. He continued to block the spear thrusts with his knife, but just barely in time. Gale let his injured leg drag a little, allowing himself to be backed up against the tree he had been working on earlier. He weakly blocked one last jab of the spear.

Marvel laughed again. "Some big hero. Poisoning and tricks, the work of a coward! Say goodbye, 12!"

As he lunged in for the kill, Gale jumped backwards onto the fallen tree trunk, praying that it would hold. It did, and the momentum of Marvel's attack drove the spear deep into the wood, just grazing Gale's boot as it passed. Marvel pulled at the spear, but it was stuck. He looked up into Gale's cold eyes. There was no mercy in them. The knife flashed.

Gale hopped down wearily, trying to land mostly on his uninjured leg. He pulled the knife from Marvel's throat and cleaned it on a hump of grass. The cannon rang for the boy from District 1. Considering the body, he sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled some rue from his pocket. "Even spawn of the Capitol, I guess," he said. "Only because you're here." Gale tucked the stems into Marvel's hands and gently closed the boy's eyes. Then he walked away to let the corpse be taken away.

Two left.

He hobbled back to his campsite. A silver parachute was waiting for him, resting on his rolled sleeping bag. Gale looked at it in surprise. There had been nothing from Haymitch so far. He hadn't needed anything. He sat down heavily and pulled the parcel open. Medicine. He felt the cut on his face, looked at the laceration on his leg. It was deep. He could feel it throbbing, and on his arm. He opened the small pot and stared at the oily white lotion inside. He'd need everything he had for the fight with Cato and Clove tomorrow.

However, something held him back. The shininess of the metal, the chemical smell of the medicine, it was all alien out here. The Capitol had made this.

Gale thought of Hanny, being sent home in a plain wooden box. He remembered the children he had slain, that first day of the Games. Maybe this could have saved her, could have healed them. The others the Careers had killed, ruthless and bloodthirsty.

The Capitol had the technology to do wondrous things, to heal so easily, to take away so much pain. But it chose not to. It could ease the suffering of starving people across Panem, but the leaders chose not to. A choice. The people of the Capitol chose to spend its resources on bloody games, on entertainment that cost innocent lives. They chose to waste their technology on torture and fear, to cause pain rather than cure it. A hideous choice.

Gale had a choice too. His fury grew as he realized, as he came to grips with what he held in his hands. He felt the metal grow warm under his fingers. He thought of what he was becoming party to, what he would be forced to accept if he accepted this medicine. It seemed to him that this medicine, made in the Capitol, given on the Capitol's whim, to accept this would be to say he accepted the Capitol's gift. Hanny had accepted his food and his fire, had accepted him as an ally for a short time. To take this medicine, would he be then allying himself with the Capitol, acknowledging their help to survive these games? Never!

He stood quickly, the pot open in his hand. Gale raised it above his head and shouted for anyone to hear, "No! I will not accept what the Capitol has done! I will win these Games on my own terms, with my own strength!" He cast down the pot roughly, spilling the contents across the ground.

Gale stood, breathing heavily into the silence. He flung himself down on top of his sleeping bag and gasped as he jarred the slash in his leg. He smiled ruefully. It was all well and good to throw away good medicine, he thought unrepentantly, but he still needed care. Using water from his canteen, he washed away the blood and dirt. He cut strips from the lining of his sleeping bag and blanket to stop the bleeding and bind the wounds. Climbing a tree and settling in, he finished the last of a bird and slept heavily, exhausted.

He awoke with a start. This would be the last day. Gale looked at the sky thoughtfully. Clove and Cato knew it too. Might as well get it started. He climbed down from the tree and checked over his wounds again. They had scabbed over but were still red and sore. He shook his head. They had been his choice, and he would live with it. Hopefully.

Gale made the final arrangements near twilight, and then set a fire that sent smoke drifting up to the sky. That would call the Careers. Even wary of a trap, they would come. As they did, creeping along as silently as city dwellers could. They were heading straight for the fire. High in a tree some distance away, Gale silently nocked an arrow, counting in his head. He turned and fired into the underbrush, at right angles to the path Cato and Clove were taking.

They stopped short, their attention caught by the rustle and the startled flapping and call of the birds. They conferred and with obvious reluctance Clove moved towards the distraction and Cato continued towards the fire. Gale lightly dropped from his tree and ran on hunter's feet towards Clove walking away from him.

He changed angles so he was running not directly behind Clove but slightly away. Gale let his run become sloppy, landing fully on twigs and branches, snapping them loudly, crashing through the underbrush. He heard her path change to match and ducked as he heard the undulating hum of her thrown knife. It clipped his shoulder, just missing its mark on his head. Even strained by the oncoming gloom and the terrain, Clove's aim was a fearful thing. Gale heard her call after Cato, angry and excited. "He's here! It's him! Cato, I've got him!"

Gale ran headlong now, trusting his feet to the path he had prepared and practiced. He heard another knife whistle by and forced himself not to dodge to the side. He was getting close and one misstep would be disastrous. Clove was gaining on him and all she needed was a clear shot.

He saw his mark and changed angles again around a large oak. A few more steps and his path was crossed by a fallen trunk. He carefully leaped over it and timed the next few steps after, finally dodging behind a thick tree as Clove came around the bend.

She was too short to jump the fallen log as he had done and so planted one foot firmly on it to vault over. But the tree gave way beneath her and unbalanced, Clove fell and began to slide down the steep hill. The rocking log took out Gale's precautionary trip wire before its progress was stopped by standing trees. Clove clawed at the slope, desperately trying to slow her descent. She screeched for help, for Cato. She hit a whippy young sapling that sprung forward to score a deep gash in her leg. Clove cried out in pain but still had too much momentum to stop.

Gale had been matching her fall foot for foot, leg screaming in protest, and beat her to the bottom of the hill. He scrambled to find the loose rope end and had just gotten a hold of it when Clove slammed into the forest floor. Before she could regain her breath, Gale pulled on the rope with all his might, yanking away the struts. The trap was sprung and a thick net curled up around Clove, pulling her off the ground and entangling her arms and legs.

Clove was still calling for Cato and Gale could hear him approaching. Whatever it was that drew them together, Gale would now use it as bait. Breathing hard and ignoring the pain in his arm, Gale stepped out of the shadows and took a firm stance. Clove's eyes widened and she struggled harder with the net, now screaming, "Cato, no! No! It's a trap! Cato, it's a trap!"

"Clove! Clove, I'm coming!"

Gale felt the scab on his arm give and blood began to seep out again. Still, he brought up the silver bow and took aim. Cato came over the top of the hill, sword brandished and chest heaving. His feet stuttered as his eyes took in Clove tangled in the net and Gale standing beside her. He had no time to dodge and Gale's arrow took him straight through the heart.

Cato jerked backwards, dropping his sword, looked down at the arrow shaft perplexedly, and used both hands to pull it out. Gale drew another arrow out of the quiver. Cato picked up his sword and charged down the hill, roaring defiance over Clove's screams of pain and anger. Gale swung the bow up and released another arrow into Cato's chest. The impulse barely slowed his rush and Gale hurled himself to the side as Cato barreled down the last of the slope, sword raised high overhead.

Carried a few steps beyond where Gale crouched, Cato turned quickly, bringing the sword around to slash at Gale. He blocked it with the bow, sparks flying as the steel met the silvery metal. Cato's movements were slowing down and Gale could see the blood streaming down the front of his shirt. Cato managed two more attacks before the sword fell from his hand. He dropped to his knees. He looked up at Clove, staring at him in horror, and smiled. He nodded his goodbye. He looked back at Gale and said harshly, "Finish it, 12."

Gale nodded. He slowly pulled another arrow from the quiver and nocked it to the string. He brought the bow up into position. A flash of silver, and a small knife embedded itself into Cato's temple. Gale started back and the knife aimed at him went awry, sliding across his collarbones instead of driving into his neck. He felt the blood dripping but didn't stop to gauge the injury. The cannon boomed overhead.

"Come back here, you coward!" Clove screamed at him as he ducked behind a tree. He heard knife after knife thud into the tree trunk behind him. Clove was still screaming. "Cato! You took him from me, you bastard! I'll kill you! I will slice that smile right off your face, I will carve a new smile into your throat! I'll kill you for this, Gale Hawthorne! He was mine and you took him from me and I sweat to God I will kill you!"

Gale snorted. How many knives did she have? He called, "You already promised to that, from the moment you volunteered and I was reaped."

The wave of obscenities and threats never wavered. The knives did stop though and Gale heard the soft rasp of a saw edge on rope. He swiped at blood trickling down his face from the wound Marvel had given him, needing to keep his vision clear. He nocked another arrow and held the bow ready. "A quick draw is it?" he asked, half to himself. "Arrow versus knife. Showdown at high noon," he said dryly, remembering the myths his father had told him as bed time stories, of olden days full of cowboys and gunslingers. He took a deep breath in and let it out calmly.

The rope snapped and he heard a thud as Clove hit the ground. Gale hurled himself from behind the tree, out into the open. He had a split second, a fraction of time before the last knife was whipped at his head. Falling sideways towards the ground Gale fired, hoping that his reflexive aim was good enough. He saw Clove's triumphant smirk at the same time as he felt the line of fire flash across his chest and ribs. As his body collided with the forest floor, Gale saw his arrow sink into her stomach and heard her sharp intake of breath. He rolled, ignoring the pain in his side, not knowing how many more weapons Clove had on her. _A dying animal was the most dangerous_, he thought wryly as he scrambled on hands and knees behind another thick tree.

"Don't worry, Gale Hawthorne," Clove said faintly, out of his view. "That was my last."

Gale laughed harshly. "Sure, Clove. And there's a gold mine back in 12 that I'd love to sell you." His hands gripped over the wound that reached from the skin just below his heart in a jagged red line to his sternum where the knife had caught and dug in, skipped off and slid across his skin to rebound off the ribs under his right arm.

Clove laughed softly. "A generous offer. I meant it."

"Well, forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Don't forget who betrayed who here."

Gale leaned his head back against the tree, exhausted. "I figure you would have shot me sooner or later anyway."

"True. It is the Games, after all." Clove drew in a deep, shuddering breath and continued, "No one deserves to win the Games, you know? Not bravest, not purest, not even cleverest."

Gale laughed ruefully. "None of us deserved to be thrown in here, either."

"Maybe not," Clove agreed; her voice so soft Gale strained to hear it. "But you and I both decided that it was better to fight and die, rather than live and die without the attempt." She gasped aloud in pain, and then Gale heard her body slump to the ground. The last cannon sounded.

He slowly stood up, leaving his gear at the base of the tree. Painfully, he pulled rue and daisies from his jacket pocket. They were already bundled together, ready for both Cato and Clove or for him. Gale placed the fallen on their backs, eyes closed, arms crossed over their weapons laid across their chests. He tucked the posies next to their hearts, first Cato, then Clove. He heard the hover craft take form above him and he stepped away from the bodies.

The announcement began overhead. "Ladies and gentlemen, may we present the winner of the Seventy-fourth Annual Hunger Games, Gale Hawthorne!"

A/N:_ Aaaand so much for that. The story technically isn't over, it will continue into the rest of Catching Fire and Mockingjay (hopefully) (someday). Anyway, reviews are welcome welcome welcome and many thanks to warrior4 for his varied beta-ing skills. Ch. 7, if you remember, would be the start of the next one, but until I can get around to finishing it, we'll just call this good for now. _


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